A hand woven basket my mother did make
Strewn on the path I trod to sweet fields of cane
High over cairo, the valley of kings
Where the desert called their bodies down
"Come on down to the desert ground"
The lord of sand, he calls out
Come on down to the desert ground
Down to the desert ground, I come down

It came down in a hurry, twirling in the air
And the lives upon this air balloon spoke their final prayer
Now the canes stood high, holding out their hand
Though the desert's hand was mightier
And no fall, could it withstand

And lay there, a mother, her daughter and son
The only three to last the fall
And tell of what'd been done
How the desert rules with an iron
Fist and nay believes in truth or grace
And once bound by the desert sound, ne'er we will escape